The Closed Garden
by justplainrii
Summary: "Do you feel as if there is something missing in your life?" - With these words, a door begins to open in the mind of Anthy, a talented ballet dancer. A signet ring her only lead, Anthy must piece together a mystery that will pull her world apart as she knows it. Will this cycle be the last one, or will the Rose Bride live forever on this new stage?
1. The Fool

_The Closed Garden_

* * *

_0 - The Fool_

* * *

"It's a beautiful collection, isn't it?"

The woman who had spoken had appeared very suddenly. She was well-dressed, wearing a man's suit and a faded pink tie. The outfit was impeccably made; she looked like she belonged, unlike a fair amount of the other guests at the party, the uncultured socialites there to support the arts. It was just a wrap party, anyways, for the final show of _The Prince and the Raven._

Anthy carefully put on a smile and responded. "Which collection, exactly? The art at the venue?"

"Not at all. I'm talking about the dancers," the woman replied. She swept some of her black hair over her shoulder in looking at the crowd. "Your brother certainly knows how to put a company together."

"Ah, yes," Anthy replied. "He has a talent for finding just who he needs."

The woman nodded. "I can imagine this is how he manages to continue these productions, year after year, without much change."

"Change?"

"If it isn't broken, then don't try to fix it, isn't that what they say?" The woman looked back at her. Anthy could see that her eyes were a very dark blue, almost black. "It's a fine combination, to keep on for so long."

"I suppose I agree," Anthy replied. The questions were beginning to prickle slightly of something more than just small talk, and Anthy wet her lips in the pause. "May I ask who you are?"

"Of course." The woman reached into her breast pocket and took out a sterling silver business card holder; there was a diamond embossed on the cover. "My name is Akemi."

She handed Anthy her business card, and Anthy held it with only the tips of her fingers. There was nothing beneath Akemi's name but a cell phone number and a slogan: "_Finding what you've lost at any cost._" The design was as subtle and stylish as its owner.

"And what brings you here, Ms. Akemi?" Anthy said, holding the card with her drink now. "A friend of the Otori family?"

Privately, Anthy doubted this, since the Otori-invited guests were the ones in the lime-and-neon ensembles, laughing too loudly and mispronouncing words like "_pas de deux_." Akemi didn't seem the type.

And, indeed, she shook her head. "I'm here to see you, Ms. Himemiya."

"Is that so?" Anthy covered her mouth with her free hand, masking her curiosity. "Are you a fan of mine, then?"

"Of sorts. You dance quite beautifully, and you dance The Raven as if you were born for it. But that's not why I'm here," Akemi replied.

An uncomfortable sensation began to bristle its way into Anthy's chest, though she couldn't place the reason why. "What is it, then?"

Anthy began to suspect that her discomfort might have come from the fact that Akemi's face hadn't changed throughout their entire exchange, an almost admirable expression of neutrality. Of course, there had to be something else at play, but the easy explanation allowed Anthy to at least expect what might be coming.

"Do you feel as if there is something missing in your life, Ms. Himemiya?" Akemi said.

She almost had to laugh in response. "Excuse me?"

"It doesn't have to be anything defined. Perhaps just a feeling that you've misplaced something," Akemi continued. "Or that you've forgotten something important."

"I don't think I have any idea what you're talking about," Anthy said.

Her discomfort was growing in her chest like thorns.

Akemi simply nodded, which didn't help.

"Are you one of those new-age types?" Anthy continued. "Looking to convert?"

"No, that is not my business," Akemi replied. "I am here to help you find what you've lost. That is what I do."

The words on the paper were almost magnified by the champagne-mirror of the glass in Anthy's hand.

Anthy hardened her eyes. "Then who sent you? Why are you here for me?"

"I came myself, because helping you will only help us all, in the end," Akemi said.

"I'm going to ask that you leave me alone, now," Anthy said, putting her smile back on. After all, if there was going to be a scene, nobody would want to see her as anything but graceful.

And Akemi nodded, again. "I understand. Please, before I leave, take this back with you." She reached into her breast pocket again and took out a thick silver ring, a man's ring, the sort of thing that wasn't worn but used to stamp wax seals. "It isn't yours, but I think it will help."

The ring dropped heavily into Anthy's free palm. The metal felt cold. "What is this?"

"A ring. Please, try not to lose it. It was very hard to find," Akemi said. "Consider it a gift from an admirer."

The ring slipped onto Anthy's thumb as she handled it. "Thank you. Now, please go. I have many other people to talk to."

Akemi nodded. "Of course. You have my number, so feel free to call me once you know."

Anthy was reaching for the clutch under her arm. "Why would I call-?"

But she looked up, and Akemi was gone as abruptly as she had appeared, the gray of her suit blending into the sea of people.

Anthy put the ring and the business card in her clutch and downed the rest of her champagne in one gulp, and resolved to forget about the strange woman for the rest of the party.

For the most part, she succeeded.

Midnight passed. When the party began to wind down, and people folded into their hotel rooms and taxi cabs, Anthy felt a warm and familiar arm around her bare shoulders as she watched the unraveling from the bar.

"Anthy, my dear?"

She looked up, and smiled almost genuinely for the first time that night. "Yes, Akio?"

"Did you enjoy yourself tonight?" His tie was loosened, and his hair was starting to come undone, but in a way that only made him seem more put-together.

"As much as I could. Looking forward to some rest, now," she replied.

"Oh, then I'd hate to impose this on you, Anthy…" His voice was saturated with cinnamon and guilt as his mouth neared her neck.

"What is it?" she said, almost whispering.

"Saionji left early, and he seemed awfully upset."

Anthy almost smirked. "And why would he be upset?"

"Something about not being recognized for his work," Akio said. She could feel the skin of his cheek against her ear. "Won't you go and calm him down?"

"What's his room number?"

He told her, and pulled a key card out of his breast pocket. He always had these back-up plans.

"I'll see what I can do." Anthy pulled away from his body, and adjusted the fallen strap of her red dress. "We won't want him missing from your next production, would we?"

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Akio leaned against the bar, and smoothed back his hair. "Run along, now. I'll see you in the morning."

She winked at him as she left, and took her shoes off in the hallway.

The hotel room, when she entered, was lit only by the silver glow of the parking structure beyond the window. The light mixed uncertainly, and cast deep shadows.

Saionji himself was on the phone in the bedroom, and he was pacing. "Of course it was a patient! Someone just _happened_ to need your _precious_ attention on the night of my _final show!_"

Whomever he was talking to didn't have much time to reply.

"You just don't care about my career, do you? Sure, for all the talk you give me, when it comes down to it? It's more important for you to go sleeping around with the interns than supporting me."

Anthy could hear an attempt at chatter on the phone. She leaned against the kitchen wall, waiting.

"Oh, just… shut up. I'm not going to listen to you anymore. I'm done." He breathed in through his nose as the phone tried to calm him again. "Good _bye!_"

Saionji slammed the phone down, and finally faced the kitchen. His shirt was open and his hair was falling over his shoulders.

"You feeling better, getting all that out?" Anthy said. She had her ankles crossed where she was leaning.

"What are you doing here?" Saionji said.

"Heard you had a bad night. I'm here to make it better." She uncrossed her ankles and let one of her shoulder straps fall again.

Saionji's face in reply was sour. "I'm not in the mood for a pity fuck."

"Who said I was here for a pity fuck? I'm here to make _us_ feel better." She began walking towards him, her eyes softened and full of honey. "You've had a long day. We both have."

He did not resist as she put her arms around him, her clutch still in her hands.

"Why don't we pretend we're still in rehearsals? Both of us sweaty from dancing all day…" She began to touch his face with her lips, not quite kisses, but enough to soften him up. "Only this time we don't have to worry about getting up early for practice in the morning, or anyone hearing us…"

Saionji finally kissed her back, and she smiled at her success. He was always quick to follow her lead, impulsively falling into her hands.

Anthy began leading him to the bed, and gently coaxed him to sit on the edge. She put her purse on the nightstand, and began to undo his pants.

And she went through the motions of pleasing him. Warming him up with her hands, and then letting him do whatever he wanted inside of her. She had condoms in her purse, and took them out as they were needed, and she said things that made him feel much bigger than he was.

She felt nothing, of course. She never did.

But she basked in the satisfaction of her security and the pleasure it would bring her brother, in the morning.

Saionji was one of their better dancers, and had been heartbreakingly brilliant in the role of the Cursed Knight that season. Their _pas de deux_ together—a waltz of death, her Raven lovingly tearing the life out of him—was so much more emotionally affecting than her later _pas_ with the Prince.

Then again, Miki had been their Prince. He was perfect, and exact, but left emotion backstage.

But she didn't have to worry about Miki. She had him completely enamored and obedient. He was content, so long as he got to dance with her somehow, or somewhere.

Saionji, always the featured dancer, never the leading man, she had to lubricate and taste and tease into working.

Certainly, there would be more tantrums in the short, sterile pause between productions. But she would have him where she wanted when the auditions began with little effort.

Just so long as she got through tonight.

She rested against him once she'd worked her magic, listening to him rant himself to sleep about the things he deserved, his angry heartbeat calming.

And within Anthy's open clutch, the silver ring caught some of the witching-hour light, and the engraved rose on its face gleamed, and waited.


	2. The Magician

Saionji was horny when he woke up, and what began as Anthy's sleepy attempts to sate him with her mouth ended in him fucking her for over an hour. She endured it, trying to turn each yawn into a moan for him. Her mind was at home, and breakfast. Obviously, his wasn't. But she couldn't let that bother her.

She lay on top of him after they were done, breathing lightly, her brown arm on top of his slightly-shining chest. Some of his hair was entwined in her fingers.

He was coming down, finally, from the frenzied murmurs of his sex talk. Usually it was mindless domination fantasy and variations of "Call Me Master," but something in his whispers caught her ear.

"…my Rose Bride, you're my own little Rose Bride…"

She crawled a little closer to his face, her voice breathy. "Rose Bride…?" she said.

"Your hair… smells like roses…" He arched his head back into the pillows for comfort. "Just like… that fairy tale…"

"What fairy tale?" Her voice lost its softness a little, in its curiosity.

Saionji, having caught his breath, adjusted himself so that he was sitting up more. "You know… the Shining Prince and the Rose Bride. One of those more obscure fairy tales that they make operas and ballets out of. _Definitely_ too dark for a cartoon."

"Tell me about it," Anthy said, cuddling against him, but only to hear him better.

"You've never heard about it?"

"Only rings a few bells." She tilted her head. "Come on, tell me. Who's this Rose Bride I'm so very much like?"

Saionji's chest swelled a little from his obviously captive audience, and he brushed his hair out of his eyes before putting an arm around Anthy. "Well, it's one of those contests for the hand in marriage of a beautiful princess that smells like roses. Hence, you know, the Rose Bride. All these eligible knights come by to duel for her honor, but they all die."

"How awful," Anthy said, but her voice was half-volume. Something in the story simply didn't seem… right.

"The only one that comes close ends up running away from the castle because he touched or saw the bride before the wedding day, and she turned into an ugly witch or a hag or something," Saionji continued. "One of those old fairy tales that don't make much sense. Probably a story about chastity or something."

"Chastity?" she said, her nose wrinkling. Not from the sex allegory—that was understandable—but the witch thing. It didn't seem to fit.

"You know, no sex before marriage or else you'll ruin it," Saionji said quickly. "Old-fashioned morals." She could feel his heartbeat quickening under her arm, and knew that arousal wouldn't have been far behind if it continued.

"Mm." The story revolved in Anthy's mind, unusually bright. What was it that she was missing…?

"Don't know why it came to mind, I think your hair…" he continued, lifting a mass of her night-violet waves to smell them. "I always loved that rose shampoo you use…"

Anthy carefully picked herself away from him, so as to seem flirtatious, rather than uncomfortable. "It's funny," she said, her voice falsely bubbly, "I just remember that story ending differently."

"Oh? How's that?"

"The Rose Bride isn't a witch or anything, just another princess stuck in a tower," Anthy said.

"Oh, well, _obviously_, Anthy, I don't think _you're_ ugly or anything…" Saionji sat up further, so as to lean over her.

Anthy gently kept him where she wanted with her fingers. "Of course you don't," she said. "I remember, too, the knight that ended up winning all the duels turned out to be a… woman in disguise or something, and she…"

The eagerness in Saionji's voice surprised her. "And she what?"

"…well, of course, back then, two women together?"

She didn't mean any of her words. Anthy felt suddenly very hollow inside, and any motivation she had for pleasing Saionji was gone.

"The female knight got banished from the kingdom for her transgression, and the Rose Bride was doomed to never be married."

She'd obviously let something slip, because Saionji sat back against the pillows, looking almost weak. "…well, when you put it that way, it's more of a tragedy than a fairy tale, isn't it?" he said.

"Mm." Anthy began to get off the bed, letting her hair cover her breasts. "I should get going…"

"What, you're not in the mood anymore?" His usual bossiness began to leak into his voice.

"Saionji, after all the fun we had last night, _and_ this morning, I need some time to recover." If her voice was convincing, she sure didn't hear it. She began slipping her dress back on.

Apparently, it satisfied Saionji, but only to the point of further frustration. "Lay in bed with me for a while, then!"

"I need a fresh change of clothes. And Akio needs me this afternoon." She turned back, now pulling her hair back into a bun. "You wouldn't want me to keep him waiting, would you?"

Saionji looked out the window, frowning slightly. "Fine, go."

Anthy took her purse and slipped on her shoes, and trailed her hand around the edge of the door as she left. "I'll see you real soon…"

Saionji didn't say anything in return, but she was far from caring at that point.

Akio was still sleeping when she got home, after hailing a cab. She showered, removing the smell of sex from her body and from her hair, but she used honey-flavored shampoo instead of her usual rose. Somehow, the thought of that scent made her feel sick inside. Anthy let her hair hang wetly around her shoulders as she made a late breakfast for the both of them, and it dried untamed.

She assured Akio, as they ate their toast-and-tomato together, that Saionji was feeling cooperative again, and he praised her as he usually did before returning to the newspaper.

It would be at least a week before he began planning the next program, and she knew it. The ballet and the style were a mystery to her, but undoubtedly he would be asking for her input once he began getting ideas.

She cleaned, after they finished eating. And she went to find her dress in the bathroom to be sent to the dry-cleaners, afterward, tripping over her silver-spangled clutch in the hallway.

The ring tumbled out.

It looked remarkably bright against the dark gray carpet of her room, and Anthy couldn't help but look at it, and be reminded of that almost invisible woman from the night before.

The business card remained in the purse, forgotten, as Anthy hung it back up in her closet. But the ring she put on her bedside table, beside the alarm clock.

It was such a small thing, but every time she passed it, it pulled on her eye like a hook.

She stayed out of her room as much as possible that day, pulling the house back together and taking calls.

But it was still there at night, catching ruby-pink sparks on its surface from the string of lights Anthy had around her closet. She was exhausted, at that point, and lay on her back in her nightie after undressing, and she did not think anything of it when she picked the ring up and began to play with it.

She noticed, finally, the seal upon it: a rose within a circle, and within the folds of the rose, there almost seemed to be a crown. The engraving was thick and easy to see, and she turned it around on her finger, idly, watching as the light changed upon its face.

The ring was gently clasped in Anthy's hands as she fell asleep on top of her covers, her hands folded on her chest like a corpse.

And with the ring, she dreamed.


End file.
